Outta Time
by TheFABFive2015
Summary: TAG 2015. Kindly inspired by Madi, the boys of International Rescue are about to join forces with some unexpected guests. Crossover between TAG 2015 and Emergency!


Hello again, folks, and welcome to my latest story. Unlike anything I've written before, this one is rather different, in that it's a crossover.

Thanks to Madi, I've been enjoying another of my childhood favourites - the classic series Emergency! Like TAG, it features a 'family' who risk their lives to save others. It doesn't hurt, either, that we're not just talking firefighters here, but firefighter paramedics. And they're both _very_ easy on the eyes!

If any Emergency! fans out there want to read the stories I've written for it alone, you'll find them in that category, under my user name there - RescueSquad51

As I've watched it with these latest episodes of TAG, I've wanted to write a story that features them together. Unfortunately, there's a slight snag, in that Emergency! was set in the 1970s, and TAG is set nearly a hundred years later. But then, this is fanfiction, where your imagination can let such things happen. So with all (current) rules of physics left aside, and with special thanks to Madi for all her inspiration and ideas, here's the crossover that both of us would have loved to see.

The boys of Station 51 join forces with the boys of Tracy Island. And hang on to your DeLoreans, folks. It's going to be quite a ride!

Enjoy!

* * *

Outta Time

30 September 2065 - Tracy Island

Even by their chief inventor's standards, this was impressive. Kinda weird too. and - yes, okay, just a tad freaky.

Brains' latest invention. A transporter that could instantly move disaster victims to safer ground, where they could get treatment out of the danger zone. Or, as the little boy inside him would still call it, a time machine.

After too many close calls, including the skier from their last rescue, who'd lost both legs in that avalanche, it would be a massive asset to their operation. Just three tiny words stood in their way.

 _If_ it worked. And even as he smiled at Brains' excitement, Scott couldn't ignore a rising sense of unease that the laws of physics had somehow been broken. The more he stared at the mass of flashing lights in front of him, the stronger his _'I'm gonna regret this'_ instincts became.

"Yeah, this looks real neat, Brains, but... uh... are you sure it's safe? I mean, moving those bagels there proves it works, but for transporting a human body..."

"Oh yes, Scott. It's perfectly safe," Brains assured him from under a mass of tubes and cables. "In fact, Moffie... I - I mean Professor Moffat worked on it with me at Cambridge. And its prototype was built in 1972 by my great grandfather. But then it was lost when he left UCLA, and... ooh, after all these years, I wonder what happened to it..."

* * *

30 September 1975 - Los Angeles

One of these days, Hank Stanley would understand the quirks of human nature. To him, an inferno meant at least four engine crews, a second alarm, and several hours to bring it under control.

To the owner of this junkyard, however, it had applied to a... junk fire. Piles of scrap that had caught the wind, and gone up like... well, nothing. It had taken his boys less than five minutes to put it out and douse it down. Time that could have been much better spent at a _real_ threat to life.

Tossing his gloves into his helmet, Hank sighed. Yes, these were the times when he wished there was a better system to classify their callouts. Still, no harm done. This time. As he watched Johnny clamber over mounds of stacked boxes, he knew how quickly that could change.

The kid attracted trouble like a damn magnet, so this excited yell could lead to anything, from his latest fad to the dawn of the apocalypse.

"Hey, Roy? Guys? Take a look at this!"

Never in his frequently threatened life could Roy DeSoto have foreseen what his partner's discovery would lead to. But then, the device in Johnny's arms looked harmless enough. Dented and charred, but still in one piece, it had clearly seen better days. And as they came to join them, Hank, Chet and Mike now shared his curiosity on what it was.

"Looks like something the kids would make in science class," he said at last, peering over it for any hazards that Johnny may have missed. "Yeah, looks safe enough, for... well, whatever it is. Got any name or ID on it?"

"Yeah, right here." Johnny then frowned at the inscription he read out to his equally amused crewmates. "Patent Pending, UCLA 1972, and... whoa, check _this_ out. Eugene H Hackenbacker. Now there's a name you wouldn't forget in a hurry."

"Yeah, it's a mouthful all right," Hank agreed, sharing his senior paramedic's grin for what they both knew would follow.

Okay, so it wasn't a stray puppy, but the family baby was still clearly smitten by his new toy. The 'can I keep it?' plea that every parent had to deal with was written all over his face. And Hank had more reason than fatherly affection to let it win him over.

"And since you found it in this junkyard, it clearly doesn't belong to anyone, so... yeah, I guess we can take it back with us. See if we can find out who this Hackenbacker guy is."

Unseen by his partner, Roy threw their captain a glance of pure gratitude. As they'd both agree, anything that kept The Calamity Kid out of trouble, out of danger, and out of a hospital bed, had to be a good thing.

When they returned to the station, however, that fatherly brotherly indulgence started to change. For Roy, it began with the light that he'd been warily eyeing for the last mile home. Anything that flashed red like this was _never_ a good sign. And for Hank Stanley, it was the double 'uh-oh' moment of seeing his senior paramedic run for the nearest extinguisher, while his partner held his new toy away from him with rather less excitement than he'd done before.

"Everything okay there, pal? Is it... uh, meant to be doing that?"

Faced with a line of mildly worried stares, John Gage reacted to them as John Gage did best. With defensive sarcasm. And lots of it.

"How should I know? I've only just found it!"

More lights were flashing now, along with a high pitched whine that even rattled their unflappable engineer. And if Mike Stoker was rattled, then - yes, it was time to start running for the nearest bunker.

"Well, anything that starts glowing like that can't be good..."

"Yeah, Gage, you'd better ditch it, pronto..."

"Yeah, Roy, get that foam on it..."

"...real fast, before it..."

*KAWOOSH*

Staring down at his dematerialising hands, Roy just had time to throw his partner his fiercest glare, before the rest of him, plus Johnny, plus Cap, plus Mike and Chet, all vanished into a blinding flash of light.

"Damn it, _JUUNIORRRRR_!"

* * *

Yes, this was now officially a bad idea. This was the moment when Scott knew he should have trusted his instincts, and pulled the plug on it. Because even by their own, all kinds of weird standards, this took the factor of Tracy Island weird to a whole new level.

Against Brains' joyous " _Whoo hoo! It works_!", the sight in front of him made him rub his eyes in pure disbelief. Because there, right in the middle of their main lab, five thoroughly be-foamed firefighters stared back at him in the same _'what the hell_?!' confusion.

But then, their leader found enough of his bearings to bark out the question that he'd kinda like answered too.

"What the hell just happened?! And where the hell _are_ we?!"

Oh, yeah, he was their leader, all right, with a voice that made his old drill sergeant sound like a little old lady. He was tall too. _Really_ tall, with enough inches to make Scott feel like his youngest, shortest brother. And, with a pretty decent right to be, he was _seriously_ ticked.

But then, Scott recognized the burden that he also carried every day. Beyond the confusion and anger, he had the lives of his crew to consider. They were in a situation that no amount of his training could have prepared him for. And in this moment of unity, his own authority re-asserted himself.

From one leader to another, this situation had to be addressed. More to the point, it had to be resolved. Before he could even try to do so, though, a meek voice kindly did that first part for him.

"Actually, it's not so much _where_ you are as... um... _when_..."

Pointing to the device in Johnny's arms, Brains then turned his own 'I-can't-believe-this-is-happening' eyes towards Scott.

"Th-That's it, Scott. My - My great grandfather's prototype. Somehow it's been activated with these tests on my version to bring them here, and... oh, no..."

Ah, those two words that Scott Tracy just loved to hear. And for once, he didn't need their resident genius to tell him what had happened. Somehow - and he'd leave its hows and whys to their other family brainiac - this firehouse crew had been transported through time. Nearly a hundred years into their children's and grandchildren's futures, they'd landed slap bang on Tracy Island, and... yeah. _'Oh no'_ definitely covered it, with a whole load to spare.

Of course, an even bigger problem now faced them. Even if he still didn't fully understand it, Scott could still see its gravity in his counterpart's eyes. With no way yet to explain how they'd got there, how the hell were they going to send them back?

* * *

They'd moved from the lab to the den. Not just to give Brains, John and Virgil more room to work, but also to offer their still shellshocked guests a more comfortable place to recover. Watching them, huddled together and still struggling to take it all in, Scott's heart went out to them.

Time travel, it seemed, affected the crew of Station 51 in different ways. Their captain had taken it with a calmness that was only betrayed by the shock in his eyes. Others had tried to deflect its gravity with a humour that wasn't entirely appreciated.

"Yeah, Cap, we really need to get back 'cos I... uh, think I left the stew on..."

"...yeah, and the second part of that Adam 12 special's on tomorrow night..."

The glare that had silently questioned Chet Kelly's sanity now turned to the family baby. The same family baby who'd left them in this mess in the first place.

" _Seriously_ , Gage? We're stuck ninety years into our futures, and _that's_ what you're worried about?"

From these two, of course, he'd expect such insanity - his eyes alone warning them that he was _not_ in the mood for any more. And for Johnny, the sight of his partner staring down at his left hand wiped all such thoughts from his mind.

With or without words or a wedding ring, Roy's emotions were written across his face. Joanne. The kids. His insensitive twit of a partner, who instantly changed back into the best friend he'd now need at his side.

"Aww, damn, Roy, I'm sorry. I - I just... all this, it's just... y'know..."

That won him a faint smile. A nod of acceptance, not just for his apology, but in thanks for the arm that had slid over his shoulders, and stayed to offer its comfort.

"Yeah, Junior, I know. It's okay, I know too."

In the still tense silence that followed, it was left to their captain to explain the additional shock of their situation that both of them shared.

"He's, uh, got a wife and kids, Scott. So have I."

Still watching them, Scott just nodded. A missing father weighed heavily on his heart too, so - yes, he could fully empathise with anyone who faced the same loss. Being torn away from their families like this, with no way of knowing if they'd see them again - God, what must they be thinking?

More than ever now, he needed to give them the answers that would send them home. And yes, if anyone could solve this mess, it would be Brains, John and Virgil. Until they did, though, life on Tracy Island had to go on as best it could.

For Hank Stanley, the family business that operated out of it was every bit as incredible as travelling through time to see it. Glancing back at his senior paramedic, it also gave him the perfect reason to change the subject onto less painful matters.

"So, Scott... your father set up this International Rescue? And now you're in charge of it in his... uh, absence?"

The time he'd taken to choose that final word earned him another appreciative smile as Scott passed round another refill of coffee. After a shaky start, they'd found this common ground between them. A duty of helping others that had already forged its unique bonds of brotherhood.

Of course, that 24/7 calling had no time for such sentiments. And as the crew of 51 wryly agreed, it didn't respect coffee breaks in 2065 either.

For Scott, his response to EOS's call came as naturally now as breathing. And even if he was too focussed to notice it, he still felt another father's eyes fill with approval. Sensed the glances of admiration from his new brothers in arms. And from Chet, a whispered question that made all of them, even Roy, smile again too.

"Hey, Mike? What the hell's an EOS?!"

"How the hell should _I_ know?"

Ah yes. Another future invention that he'd explain later. Right now, he had more important matters to deal with.

An oil fire, affecting several rigs in the North Atlantic. A nice simple callout, that Gordon and Alan could easily handle in Virgil's absence, but one that would still need his presence to co-ordinate. Except this time, he also had five unexpected guests that, as things stood, he'd need to leave behind.

There was, of course, a simple solution. And, just as he'd expected, their leader hadn't just thought of it too, he was also already rising to his feet to put it into action.

"We might not have our equipment, Scott, but you've still got five firefighters and two paramedics here. Just tell us where you need us."

Okay, so this was a definite first, but Scott wasn't about to argue. With casualties now being reported, he was going to need all the help he could get.

"Thanks, uh... Cap... right, Alan, gear up to fly Thunderbird Two. Gordon, take our new crew here down to the Pod Bay, and help them kit out. If those rigs are compromised, you'll need to launch Four. I'll lead out in Thunderbird One, and make contact with the rescue teams on site."

Pausing to check that everyone understood his orders, he then traded a quick grin with Hank before striding to the wall that led down to One's silo.

"Right then, Thunderbirds are go!"

Spellbound by their host spinning into a solid wall, it took several tugs on Johnny's arm to get him moving. Even when he managed it, Roy almost wished he'd stayed behind. Yeah, these stairs that led down to this 'Pod Bay' were just like his partner. They went on forever.

"Whoa, Roy! Did you see that?"

"Yeah, Johnny. I was standing right next to you, remember?"

"Wow, that is _so_ cool, and... hey, Roy? When we get back, we have _so_ gotta say that!"

"Hmm, Squad 51 is go. Nah, all the time I'm driving, I don't think so."

"But you _always_ drive!"

"Ex- _actly_."

Striding alongside them, Hank could only empathise with his plight as he, too, fought a lost battle not to laugh. Hell, that smirk on Roy's face was too much like his own, so it was only natural that their shared sense of humour brought their attention to the drug box in Roy's arms. Before they even reached the rescue site, it might just be needed to keep them both sane.

"Hey, Roy? Can't you give him a shot or something? Bring him back into _our_ reality?"

"Sorry, Cap. I've read all Doc Brackett's medical books, and curing this kind of insanity isn't in any of 'em."

A pause, while the famous DeSoto squish-face ramped up to its highest _'Why me, Lord_?' level.

"'sides, when he leaves reality like this, it's kinda hard to get him back."

"Oh, hardy har har."

Listening to this masterclass in bickering, Gordon, too, wondered what his own big brother had gotten him into. But then he, too, started to smile. After all, what good was a masterclass if you didn't learn from it? Or at least take notes.

"Jeez, and Scott thinks _I_ drive him nuts, and... hey, maybe I should start writing this stuff down..."

* * *

Hank Stanley would never know it, but he'd succeeded in five minutes where Scott Tracy had failed for most of his fourth brother's life.

Under his curiously inspecting eyes, Thunderbird Four's cockpit had never been cleaned so fast, and it had _never_ looked this tidy. But then, it wasn't every day that a firehouse captain and his crew from another century dropped, literally, in on you. And no number of years could stop the friendships that were forming between them.

If just in his holographic form, Virgil had instantly connected with his new 'medic responders.' For Roy especially, his calming influence on his still hyper-excited partner had been gladly welcomed. And, to his colleagues' amusement, Mike's love for Big Red had now switched to her bigger, greener counterpart. Quiet at the best of times, the brilliance of her engineering had left him both smitten and speechless.

For himself, there'd been Chet. Yes, the Prank King of Station 51 fully deserved its honour. And when this was all over, Tracy Island would never know what hit it.

Right now, though, he was riding shotgun with Mike and Alan. The model of professionalism as he reported back to his captain.

"On final approach now, Cap. Scott's already on site, and... wow! These fire-rigs makes Big Red look like a Dinky toy!"

Well, almost. And Hank had to grin at how much indignation his engineer could fit into just one word.

" _Traitor_!"

When they landed, though, and he saw them for himself, Hank had to share Mike's grudging agreement. As hard as it was for either of them to admit, both of them had to let their loyalty to their girl back home slip aside. That really was one beaut of a rig. And if this was the future of firefighting, then - yes, the world of 2065 was in very safe hands.

Against such advances in technology, Hank also had to admit to feeling a bit overwhelmed. Watching these rigs only served to remind him that he wasn't just out of time on this call-out, but out of place too. He wasn't in command, he was just here to help out. But in any year, any century, a fire was a fire. And judging by his counterpart's eagerness to greet him, anything he was able to do here was going to be appreciated.

"Captain Stanley? Chief Cinader, Red Watch, and... yeah, I'm real glad you boys are here. We've managed to contain three of these things, but Rig 51 keeps flarin' up on us, and with several of my men down..."

Turning a 'you're kidding me' cough into a nod of agreement, Hank then focussed on the words that every firehouse captain dreaded. 'Men down' meant sending more in to replace them. And right now, they were all way out of their comfort zone. But as he then proudly noted, his boys were more than ready to follow wherever he led them.

"Right, Chet and Mike, you're with me and the Chief here to get that rig under control. Roy, Johnny, stay here and get prepped for casualties. Right, let's go!"

Yes, this was more like it! No junk fires here, but the kind of challenge they'd been trained for. The boys of Station 51 were striding into action, as the heroic professionals they were.

"Hey, Cap? Squad 51 is go!"

"Cap, I'll be fine on my own here. Just take him with you? _Please_?"

Well, almost.

* * *

Well, that had been... different. Every bit as challenging as anything they'd have faced back home. Testified by a chorus of contented sighs and the occasional groan, it had been hard work too.

Chief Cinader hadn't been kidding. That rig had put her appropriately named opponents through every one of their paces. But as he glanced around at his boys, Hank felt the same satisfaction that all of them shared.

Yes, they were tired, but still too wired to even think about sleep. And true to form, The Calamity Kid had somehow managed to knock himself out.

 _'Look, I just tripped, okay? That elevator thing in Two's pod just... caught me off balance_.'

 _'Yeah, Junior, you're meant to treat the casualties, not become one of 'em.'_

 _'Aww, shut up and gimme an aspirin_.'

All concussed paramedics aside, they'd all made it home too. Or at least the home that still had to do until they could return to their own. But to a tired and aching body, these couches still felt like the best in any timeline.

Relaxing back with his coffee, Hank had no idea for how he was going to record all this in his log. As he now fondly noted, his boys were still buzzing from the weirdest call-out they'd ever go on.

Beside him, Scott threw him the same rueful smile. After such an eventful day, his kids weren't ready to turn in either.

Huddled together, Chet, Gordon and Alan were deep in discussion over what he _hoped_ was something more serious than their grins suggested. On the opposite couch, Roy was still dangerously close to hand-gagging his partner, while reminding him that patients with concussions needed _rest and quiet_.

"And _so do I_. Now settle down, before I sedate you."

Blessed, if sulky glaring silence. In the family chatterbox's place, though, Mike was on such an engineery buzz that his captain had to wonder if he didn't need a shot too. As Chet had wryly put it, he'd said more in that last minute than he usually did all week.

"I can't believe how you put that fire out with just sound waves. And that foam delivery system was something else, those jets were so precise. Even in the tightest places, they went right where you needed them to go. Way better than what we have back home."

"Yeah, you can say that again," Chet agreed, glancing up from whatever mischief his captain hoped to God he wasn't planning. "With us, it's just a big long tube hooked up to our engine, and fired out as best we can."

Ah yes. More reminders of how their equipment back home paled against its future equivalents. And from their captain, a rueful reminder that it didn't always go to plan.

"Yes, ideally without covering _me_ in it too."

But then another clash of the timelines came. A back to reality sight, that turned their laughter into a suddenly uneasy silence. The device that had brought them here, along with the one that held their lives, their futures, within it.

Flanked by Virgil and John, Brains had now come to break the news they'd both prayed for, and dreaded in equal measure. The announcement that would either send them home, or strand them in a world where, all joking aside, they just didn't belong.

A cautious smile was a promising sign. And to the relief of all of them, Brains kept it to the short and sweet basics that all of them needed.

"You have a few more minutes for them to align, but... yes, gentlemen. We've done it. You're going home."

The moment they'd all waited for, met with a bittersweet mix of emotions. Hugs of joyous relief, against the knowledge that this incredible experience was about to end. And as such moments always seemed to do, they passed a lot faster than the never ending hours that had preceded them.

In the rush to get in the right place for this truly critical time, there was barely enough of it for any of them to enjoy a proper goodbye. But for himself, his crew, and the family who'd taken them in with such generosity, Hank was determined to make every one of those last few minutes count.

"Scott, there's no words I can say to thank you for all you've done while we've been here. But what I _can_ say for all of us, this is a day that none of us will ever forget. And if you ever make it back to _our_ time, make sure you drop in on us too. She might not be a Thunderbird, but our Big Red can still give you one _hell_ of a ride."

After everything they'd been through, there was no way that a formal handshake was going to end it. While the rest of his crew squeezed in one last round of hugs, so Hank and Scott did the same. And in those final seconds came a somewhat rushed trade of keepsakes. A last speech of inspiration, from one father and commander to the son of another.

"...and here's something for you to remember _us_ by. And if you'll let me, I'll say this on your dad's behalf. Wherever he is out there, Scott, he'd be proud of every one of you. I hope some day soon, he'll be able to tell you that himself. So don't give up hope. Keep searching. Keep believing. Keep telling yourself, and every one of your brothers, that you _will_ find him. You're going to bring him home."

Against a sudden lump in his throat, Scott nodded. Just as he'd become attached to another father figure, and found strength in his inspiration, so the powers of science and laws of time were about to take him away.

But he was going back to his own family now. Back to where he, and Roy, and Johnny, Chet and Mike all truly belonged. To the families who'd have been as devastated by the loss of their sons, husbands and fathers as he still was for theirs.

So yes, more than ever now, he needed the arms of his brothers around him, while those of another time and place faded into the light that would take them home. With one last round of smiles and waves, the friends they'd now always see as family were gone.

Glancing down at the helmet in his hands, he then smiled. Yes, he knew exactly where he was going to put it. A place fit for every father. Every hero who risked his life to save that of a total stranger. On his father's desk, with a tribute to those who'd been the International Rescue of their day.

"To the crew of Station 51. We learned as much from you as you did from us."

And back in their own time, in the same year that their grandfather had been born, Hank Stanley held a quiet ceremony of his own. Flanked by his crew, he gently placed the photo of Jeff Tracy's family on his desk, and toasted them with the same, heartfelt pride.

"Wherever they are, and whatever time they're in, to heroes... and brothers."


End file.
